I have been a gal of few words this week. And trust me, it isn’t because I don’t have much say. heh. But certain family businesses are about to undergo the world’s largest audit and I’ve spent most nights going back through all of the books to make sure everything is in order and easily accessible. Anyway, since I haven’t time to do a lengthy post about the latest drama in my life.  Hopefully, I will be able to bring you the latest ridiculous happenings tomorrow, but until then, here are more hyphenated last names gone wrong:

Do you know anyone with a ridiculous name? Because I once had a friend who had a step dad named ‘Harry Johnson‘.

A couple of weeks ago my beloved blackberry decided to stop working. Following it’s spontaneous hiatus, I also misplaced the phone. I hate to admit when I adore material items. I’m serious. Materialism is so not what I am selling here. (Not that I’m selling anything, but you get my drift. or do you?)

It makes me feel all base and nasty inside. But really, I loved that phone. I tried not to like it.

I really did.

In the end, it won me over–which I suppose doesn’t matter because it is missing in action.

When I lost the phone, my SIM card was also gone. This means that every phone number I had in my address book was also gone. I wasn’t upset over the loss of the phone numbers  that I  actually call, because there are very few.  However, I was  mad over losing the numbers of all of the numbers for which I need to NOT answer the phone.

I know this sounds crazy. But losing all of the do not answer phone numbers in your phone is a BIG DEAL. Am I the only person that stores the numbers of annoying people as ‘DO NOT ANSWER!!!@#$”? Tell me I’m not the only person who thinks this is a big deal.

Because to me, when I have to now answer calls from the likes of 80’s Lady and other idiots of the like due to having to recensor my calls, I get so pissed.

Either way, I have a new phone again. I will be all dirty again and admit that it is a new version of the blackberry. I will also pretend I hate it.

***PS. I’m sorry for this entry. I’m not sure why I feel compelled to blog about this subject. I realize it’s sort of stupid. But it’d been one of those days. And seriously, you have got to try out storing numbers as ‘DO NOT ANSWER’. **

Allie’s rampant creativity has peaked monumentally. The latest of her creative endeavors is her most recent imaginary best friend, Cleek. That’s right, not Mary, Sally Jo, Kate, or any other name.

It’s Cleek.

The issue with Cleek is that, judging from Allie’s tales about her, she is a tad bit rough around the edges. To put it mildly, Cleek is a street thug.

Example:

Allie: “My friend Cleek was running down the road the other day. Then, she tripped. Then,she got a bleed. And then, she went to…JAIL!”

Me: “Jail?”

Allie: “Yes, JAIL!” (hard emphasis on jail..again.)

Me: “What do you think jail is?”

Allie:”Jail’s where all the polices are and you go there if you’re bad.”

Me: “And your friend–this Cleek gal, she frequents the jailhouse?”

Allie: “Yep. She steals.”

Me: “How old is Cleek? And what does she steal?”

Allie: “Cleek is firteen. She steals blue crayons and people’s dogs.”

Me: *baffled*

You see, Cleek is a thug. I’d like to talk to her, because I have a few questions lined up for her. Like–what the hell is she doing with all of these blue crayons and dogs?

Next week, I imagine that our house will be rather busy since Allie and Cleek will probably be debating whether they should join the Crips or the Bloods. I just hope they don’t bring poor along for the ride.

After getting off of the phone that morning with 80’s Lady, I was both mortified and naive. While 80’s Lady had dropped a watermelon sized bomb on me, I basically thought she was lying.I mean, it’s what she does.
She is a professional liar.

Wait–do not be mistaken;

By professional, I mean she lies regularly, likely profiting from it, and not the other professional, like that if there was a sports ranking for liars she would be batting in the World Series.

She is at the t-ball level as far as that goes– except she isn’t 3 feet tall and doesn’t have a miniature glove.

Anyway, after the phone call, I had sort of forgotten the fact that 80’s Lady ensured me I would be stalked that day. Retaining any information that early in the a.m. is a miracle, let alone remembering that she had donated me as a friend to her allegedly long,lost daughter.

So I went about my morning normally forgetting the  intricate lacings of insanity in my life.

Well, I forgot until I was walking to one of my classes, and I felt like someone was following me. Once again, my brain had blocked out all of the looney. So I just assumed it was someone else walking too closely behind.

After a while, I noticed that the person hadn’t turned off or went a different direction.

Then, it dawned on me.

80’s Lady Jr. was following me around in the most conspicuous of ways. She was doing the walking equivalent of riding someone’s ass on the interstate– at full speed.

Honestly, nice girl or not, I was not enjoying the fact that I had somehow ended up a pawn in one of 80’s Lady’s games. (I guess it would be difficult to be the pawn of someone who at their best could only master Connect 4. But you know what I mean.)

Being the semi-asshole that I am, I walked around way longer than necessary leading this poor girl in circles. But I couldn’t help it? Who just aimlessly follows someone around with a mere 12 inches of space between them?

I was curious about how long this girl would trail me. After ten minutes, (Yes, TEN MINUTES) I abruptly turned around.

Facing her, I said, “Hi. I’m Amanda. Do you need something? Because not to be rude or anything, but I can feel you breathing on my neck. That would not be a bad thing if you were Scott Patterson, but you aren’t. ”

She looked rather startled. It was not my intention to be rude to her. I’m not a rude gal. In fact, I have an uncanny ability to tolerate the odd. However, a girl can only pursued by a human shadow for so long.

“Oh, sorry. I just wasn’t sure what to say. 80’s Lady said you wanted to meet me,”80’s Lady Jr. sputtered out.

And that’s where it began. The whole reason I really wanted to avoid this poor girl. I knew I would have a difficult time deciding what I should and shouldn’t say regarding the woman who had carted her around for nine months.

Since I was schooled on a scholarly level concerning the ‘if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all’ rule by both my mother and Thumper, I followed it. While I might not be the best at being a proxy for two people reuniting, I am good at following rules.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied.

We had a short conversation after that about stupid things like the school wasting money on elaborate water fountains but cutting the budget for paper, and other things like that.

I even saw her again the other day, and thankfully, she just waved. I didn’t want to have to break out my pepper spray if she got hot on my trail again.

Really, she seems like a nice young lady. She appeared to be normal, and thankfully, an affinity for acid washed jeans isn’t genetic.

Also, I realize that it isn’t really my job to educate her about what a whack-job 80’s Lady is. Unfortunately, she’ll probably figure it out in a short amount of time anyhow. 80’s Lady does not conceal her crazy. As far as my forced friendship with her goes, I guess we’ll be friends, because it isn’t her fault that at one point 80’s Lady made up a random lie and told the whole family I left a WHOLE Q-TIP lodged in Allie’s ear canal. (They obviously knew it wasn’t true. But still.)

80’s Lady is trouble. Jr can figure that out, and do with it what she wants.

(And don’t worry, that story about the Q-tip is coming eventually too.)

So, so much to do,

in a short amount of time.

desperately need sleep.

I often wonder

how mothers of more than one

manage to function.

Particularly,

if the children are under

the weather. How? HOW?

A single ill child

absolutely wears me out.

You are wonder women.

————————————-

Shamelessly Sassy

is getting a make-over,

must learn how to code!

Trying to edit

is taking up posting time.

Need to finish soon!

I woke up to liquid spewing on my face this morning. Which is no where as pervy dirty as it sounds, however, it is as regular dirty as it sounds. You see, there is no alarm clock more efficient than your toddler projectile vomiting in your face in the wee hours of the a.m. Unfortunately, it seems as if Allie has finally caught the plague funk that is spreading throughout these parts lately, and I almost sure that it is creeping up on me.

Here at Chez Manda, we are wading through vomit and snotty tissues. With that hygiene-laced anti-quip said, I will not be able to update you on the 80’s Lady situation today. However, the benefit of the lack of update is that my update tomorrow will contain extra material from the phone call I guarantee that I will receive from her tomorrow morning.

Additionally, I am almost certain 80’s Lady Jr. will track me down again tomorrow, because she probably realizes that I am in the same building at the same time on Tuesday and Thursdays.  The adventure is coming, believe me.

Oh, the infinite joy!

If you could send wine well wishes our way, that’d be wonderful.

When I married Adam, I sort of got tricked. You see, in the years I dated him previous to our marriage, he managed to hide his crazy relatives from me. In fact, I was mesmerized by the sheer sanity of his family.

(This is mostly due to the fact that I have a whole lot of crazy in mine.)

However, not long after we were married this looney-tune cousin of his escapes her straight jacket to begin antagonizing me–daily.

Let’s call her 80’s Lady. (Because she is still sporting those acid washed jeans with stirrups on the bottom that she probably shop-lifted in ‘87 while smoking a Marlboro Red in each side of her magenta-lipsticked mouth. That’s right…two Reds at one time. )

Honestly, I’m not sure that I can paint an unbiased picture of her. I’m not even going to try, because she is a liar, a thief, and a hypochondriac. She randomly claims she’s having heart surgery when she might actually be going to the doctor for an eye exam (TRUE STORY). She takes her children to the ER for scraped knees, and then tells them and everyone else that they have something outrageous along the lines of SARS. She would probably rather drive 300 miles for a pack of free oatmeal than get a job.

To say the least, the very least, 80’s Lady is a thorn in my backside. AND, the wonderful qualities that I mentioned above are not even the reason my skin itches violently in her presence.

It’s the fact that she feels the need to call me every day before 7 a.m….before I even drink my first cup of coffee.

Yes, I am serious.

While I am awake early in the morning, I am not the sort of person who wants to talk on the phone at 6:30. In fact, I am the last person in the world that anyone would want to talk to at that hour.

I practically bark at people, and I am honestly not safe in the vicinity of people as unpleasant as 80’s Lady.

Because I am apparently a glutton for punishment, I’ve been nice to her in the past. It’s hard not to be amicable, because while her character is flawed beyond recognition, most of the time she has good intentions. She’s just never gone about the good intentions in a manner that wasn’t illegal or insane.

Apparently, my nice actions have merited telephone love from her.

This is snipped of what I thought was going to be a typical call from 80’s Lady around 6:10 a.m this morning:

I answer the phone half barking and curious to see who would dare call at such an hour, “Hello?”

“Hi! Amanda!,” screams 80’s Lady, because she always talks in a scream.

“Hi…”

“I WAS JUST CALLIN’ TO TELL YOU IT SNOWED LAST NIGHT!”

(We live in the same town. So I obviously know this.)

” Really, 80’s Lady…Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’ve just been up since 5 calling everyone to let them know.”

I know she is dead serious about the fact that she has been up doing this. However, being the wise gal that I am, I know that 80’s Lady has more to say then just this. While it is not above her to call everyone she knows to inform them of the latest weather changes (seriously, I’ll give her your number if you need to know when a thunderstorm is approaching your area. She will call), there was something else going on this morning.

“You sure, 80’s Lady? You don’t need anything else?”

Then she blurts this out in under 10 seconds:

“Oh, well, you know my long lost daughter who has been gone for 15 years from when my first husband got custody of her and moved across the country blah blah blah? Well, it turns out she goes to your college, and she’s coming to look for you today to be your friend. I told her you wanted to be her friend too.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, you know, my daughter….*insert more random 80’s Lady talk*”

HOLD UP! First of all, I had no idea 80’s Lady had a long lost daughter. I suppose I had heard about it before, but it has since seeped into the deep abyss of my brain.

Of course, it would only make sense that if 80’s Lady had a long, lost daughter it would somehow all fall into my lap. Because, hell, people with a few screws lose love me! I am a magnet for it.

The problem here isn’t that I wouldn’t befriend this “long,lost daughter”. I am a nice gal. I would converse with her. But 80’s Lady ringing me up in the A.M to let me know that she has an estranged daughter who she has promised my friendship to is so typical. so…freaking..typical..

More on this later, and if you’ve read this far…Give yourself a gold star! And don’t be getting all antsy, because 80’s Lady Jr. (the long, lost daughter) did indeed track me down today. there’s more to tell.

7.) I have a coffeemaker, but I stop to get coffee every morning. I’m not sure why?

8.) I love pictures, but I don’t take like to take them. However, this probably isn’t  in the realm of quirk since it’s just because the transfer cord is lost somewhere in the abyss of my junk guest room.

9.) I’ve only changed the diapers of my own child.

10.) Allie was the first newborn I ever held. I was sort of scared shitless weary of them before I held her.

11.) I set tiny goals for myself all through out the day. For example, “by 3′o’clock I will have blah blah blah.” (of course, replace the blahs with something important..or not important.) It’s odd, but in the end, it works for me.

That’s it..for now! You can still put them up and sign the Linky.

Since I’ll be gone most of tomorrow, I decided to go ahead and launch my list (that’s right, a list) of Quirky Confessions. Feel free to put yours up early also, if you want.1.) I always walk on the right side of the path. If it’s a hallway, I walk on the right side. If I am at the mall, the right side. It’s just a strange habit of mine.

2.) I hate for my clothing to to be wet–in particular, my socks. Although I’m really not sure how odd that is because I am sure no one revels in the feeling of wet clothing.

3.)I sleep in the same exact position every night, all night. It’s sort of like my body freezes into my sleep position. It isn’t all that weird to me, but apparently, Adam is freaked out by it.

4.) I have a really strange crater like indention in the back of my skull on the Occipital bone. It’s very, very odd.

5.) I am forever watching prison shows. I’m not sure why I do this. I should stop considering that I end up having nightmares about getting shanked by a homemade weapon fashioned from a paperclip afterwards.

6.) I love to learn new things.

*I’ll have some more to add to this tomorrow.

Due to the fact that I am a big crazy and decided to participate in blog365, I need to ensure that I post today. Since tonight is the night that I am throwing myself a birthday party, I am super busy all day. If you are looking for reading material, the post below this is embarrassing a real treat.
I’ll be back tomorrow. Girl Scout Promise (see below for a genuine Girl Scout promise from me back in the day).